Fight
by Maegfen
Summary: What happens next - Episode tag for 1x10. Mulitple POV. Hints of Tom/Rachel and Tex/Rachel.


Man, what a finale! I can't believe we have to wait until next summer for the resolution; it's so far away!

This story came about mainly because I have a whole post-finale multi-chapter epic planned out in my head. But, seeing as I'm about to start teaching again, I'm not sure when that will get written, so I think this is a happy medium: an episode tag for the finale, but a potential set up for any longer story I may write in the future!

Some of the stuff within is purely conjecture or personal headcanons I have for the various characters - I hope this doesn't detract from your enjoyment of the story!

* * *

**1\. Mike**

He's seen a lot of death in his time. The brutal streets of Chicago had shown him the violence of drugs and murder and the Navy had shown him the violence of everything else the world has to offer.

He's never, however, had to stand 3 feet from a man who is bleeding to death while his killer waves a gun around the bridge of a naval vessel.

Norris is smirking at him, giving him orders and Mike feels the tension rising on the bridge. Foster is knelt by Dr. Tophet's side but the scientist is slipping away fast… a shot to the stomach is a painful thing and a nasty way to die; despite his actions in the previous months, the man doesn't deserve that.

Mike feels more helpless now than when El Toro ferried that young, innocent girl across the river. He senses his blood pumping through his veins as he catalogues every move that the shooter makes. He's had training, he knows how to take a man down who's pointing a weapon but there are too many variables. Mike's knuckles flex subconsciously; he's angry and he knows it. He has to protect the crew, the ship, the vaccine; has to protect everyone and he can't do it because some fucking jackass has decided to stab them all in the back.

He's given the order for the crew to muster, and his gut tells him he's likely ordered the crew to assemble for their capture, imprisonment or death. He's helpless, but maybe he can draw out Norris, maybe there's way to get a signal off the ship, to let Tom know that everything's gone to Hell.

Norris stands there, unflinching, as more state troopers appear from the deck. They're outnumbered on the bridge and certainly outgunned and Mike realizes that there's not going to be a chance to warn anyone of the trouble on the ship. Options flit through his mind as he tries to decide what best to do. Tophet is still writhing on the floor but eventually someone comes on board with a first aid kit and starts to see to him. Mike knows it's futile; too much of the doctor's crimson blood stains the grey floor of the bridge and his movements are slowing, his life slipping away. Foster looks up at him from her position on the floor, Tophet's blood staining her hands and Mike is overcome by the raw instinct to protect her; she's pregnant for God's sake and he'll be damned if he lets another one of his sailors die while he's in command. The other men on the bridge are being led away, towards the rest of the crew and Mike knows it's only a matter of time before he's ordered to join them.

He stares at Norris, glaring down at the man before him. He doesn't seem the least bit intimidated, a fact that only angers Mike further.

"What are you going to do to us? To the ship?"

Norris chuckles, his gun wavering slightly as he laughs and Mike has to hold back the urge to punch him in the face. He sees Foster reach out a cautious hand to stop him as if she read his mind and he glances at her to tell her it's under control.

"We're taking you to a safe zone 100 miles away up the coast. It's very pleasant, quiet, extremely well-guarded. You'll be kept there until either your services are required or you wear out your welcome; whichever comes first."

Mike clenches his jaw and doesn't reply at first. He processes the available information, calculates the risks and advantages. 100 miles is too far to get back to Baltimore in a hurry if they do escape, but at least they're not being executed on deck and thrown overboard.

"What kind of _services_ will be required of us?" He spits out eventually, eyeing the other man with contempt. Norris doesn't eve flinch and his gun remains pointed at Mike's heart.

"Nothing that's too taxing for the great U.S. Navy," Norris utters, looking up at him, "Security work, assisting with crowd trouble, eliminating any potential threats."

"Yeah, let me guess, threats to your cause, anyone who dares speak out," Mike growls and he glares at Norris who is smirking again.

"That may well be the case XO," is all he says before he gestures for Mike and Foster to precede him down the stairs to the deck. Mike looks back to see a trooper close Tophet's eyes as he fades away; now there's _his_ family to protect too...

Mike makes the decision to regroup with the rest of the crew and wait until they reach the safe zone to formulate a plan - it's too risky to do anything now and he watches as boats and helos make their way through the darkness to escort the crew to their new home. The Nathan James is lost for now, but they'll get it back, Mike knows it.

They're just gonna have to fight for it is all.

They'll have to fight for their freedom and for the ship – _if_ is not the question; it's just a matter of when.

* * *

**2\. Tex**

It's a chilly night, he reflects, tugging at his gloves as he carefully steps over a low lying fence. He knows he's heading towards the outer limits of the city, but his pace is slow, wary. There's danger in Baltimore and Tex senses that he'll end up right in the middle of it if he doesn't watch his step.

He wasn't lying when he told Rachel that he'd seen worse; a single tour in Somalia is enough to show a man the extent of human depravity and chaos. He never thought he'd experience something like that again; but then, he'd never thought he'd end up on a naval ship fighting to save the world from a damn viral apocalypse. Life sure took its funny turns.

The streets he moves through are mainly deserted, with occasional homeless folks shambling into an alley as they look for shelter for the night. Tex doesn't feel tired though, knows he has to keep moving so he does, step by step as he makes his way towards the edge of the city. He needs to get out, get away, get a fresh start.

He can feel the locket against his chest, the cold metal adding to the chill that shivers down his spine. Carrie was somewhere in Vegas last time he heard, working her way up through the casinos; taking after her old man by working in the security business. It hadn't been his kind of work, too slow a pace for him, but then, _he'd_ always been the action-junkie not her. He hopes that she'd had the sense to leave once the virus hit, used her street smarts to get herself somewhere safe. He's not sure how he can contact her, whether she'd even _want _to hear from him (_6 years is a long time..._) but if you can't make amends with your own daughter at the end of the world when can you?

He sighs as the thought of the locket draws his mind back to Dr. Scott, no, to Rachel. The kiss had been nice, a sense of closure, but he knows that he has to move on. He'd said it himself to the Captain; she wasn't interested. He feels, though, that his leaving means that he's losing more than a potential partner - he's losing a friend and maybe he'll regret his decision to leave in the morning. She'd supported him when he'd arrived on the Nathan James, had been a friend when he'd lost all of his own at Gitmo. And he'd supported her through everything, even when the Captain had seemed to turn his back on her. Sure, he'd essentially confessed that he loved her, but he knows she's not the kind of woman to use that against him even if she rejected him. He'd processed everything that had happened over the last week - _by talking to the damn dog for Christ's sake_. It was clear she didn't return his feelings, but no harm no foul, he's not really capable of being the bitter man he was 10 years ago.

She'd tasted faintly of peppermint, he remembers, and chuckles wryly to himself because it was probably left over from the damn cup of tea she'd drunk that morning before she'd hastily disappeared from the wardroom to give Chandler his vaccination; even his farewell kiss is tainted by the presence of the Captain.

There had come a moment, as he'd watched the Captain watch Rachel through the glass door to the laboratory, that Tex had suddenly understood that the two of them shared more than a reluctant alliance; they were partners in this, in saving the world. There was no place for him in the scenario, Tex had realized. Not that either of them would purposefully say it, but he'd never stood a chance with the scientist when her attention gravitated so often towards the Captain, platonic feelings or not.

He wonders if Chandler will find his wife and family alive, hopes that he does. He hopes that Rachel manages to come to terms with what she has achieved, can revel in the fact that she's saved the world. He hopes, if the scientist and the Captain ever _do_ end up together in the future, for whatever reason, whatever the circumstance, that they're happy.

Tex pauses as he reaches a barbed wire fence, imposing and dangerous, and he's unsure if its purpose is to keep people in or out. Armed guards are spread out across the sidewalk, masks and riot gear in place, and it seems strange that so many of them should be stationed in what seemed to be a relatively quiet part of town. He studies the men, frowns as he watches them shove a family through the gate and quiz them. He hears traces of the questions, the odd word reaching him as he rests against the wall of an old library – "_sick… out this late… no reason to be here …Olympia."_

He's immediately cautious, he's seen this before with rogue militia as they patrolled the streets at night. It's as if there's a curfew in place, but Granderson hadn't mentioned one. Something's wrong in Balitmore, he realizes as the family are roughly escorted into a black van and driven away. He's torn between staying and continuing on his journey.

He decides he has to keep moving, because that's what he's always done and if he has to fight his way out of the city then he'll fight; right to the Goddamn end.

* * *

**3\. Rachel**

Lieutenant Granderson sits quietly to her left, sipping on a cup of coffee and watching her with inquisitive eyes. They've been locked in a small office room that's been set up as a makeshift bedroom; two mattresses are piled over by the floor to ceiling window. There's a conference table in the middle of the area, and Rachel spreads her work out just to fill the empty space. She misses the clutter and claustrophobia of her lab on the ship. The dim lights of the surrounding city cause Rachel to squint bleary eyed at the papers in front of her; despite having power, it's not running at full capacity, covering everything with a dull light. She feels the start of a migraine and hastily pinches the bridge of her nose to alleviate some of the pain.

The armed guards outside the door haven't moved in hours, but at least they aren't interrupting them; instead they choose to stand at attention as if daring them to try and leave. She ignores them for the most part; they're just another reminder that everything is going horribly wrong.

Rachel is determined to find a way to mass produce the vaccine, the cure, although her heart is weighed down by the knowledge that even as she begrudgingly works to save hundreds, thousands are dying on the streets around her. She's been banished from the labs for obvious reasons, her presence viewed now as nothing more than a hindrance to the scientists who continue to work at their own 'cure'. Mrs Granderson visited an hour or so ago to inform them that Rachel's assistance was required and that all of the samples of the vaccine on the Nathan James would soon be moved to the Avocet building. The woman had resolutely ignored her daughter the entire time, something that highlighted the coldness of the person in charge of the operation.

"Do you have a plan?" The Lieutenant suddenly asks, moving from her chair to take a look over the sheets of paper scattered across the glass surface of the table.

"In regards to?" Rachel replies, not turning her head to look at the younger woman.

"Getting out of here ma'am; getting back to the ship, or the Captain."

"I'm not sure escaping from a locked room surrounded by armed guards is within my skill set Lieutenant. I believe we're stuck here from the considerable future unless reinforcements arrive."

"I don't think so ma'am. I heard what you did on the Vyerni, how you…" Granderson pauses as if unsure of how to complete her comment.

"How I killed that Russian officer," Rachel's tone is slightly terse, but she smiles sympathetically as the other woman looks guilty. "I can't say, Lieutenant that I'm in a rush to repeat the experience of taking a life. I'd rather concentrate on saving them," she finishes, gesturing towards the sheaves of paper in front of her. She doesn't want to be reminded of that day; her hand has only recently stopped tremoring at the memory.

"I think all we need to do is get to the radio room," Granderson continues, clearly unwilling to let the subject drop. If she's honest, Rachel is glad for the distraction; she isn't in the right frame of mind to solve all of the issues at the moment. It's times like this that she misses Tex's company. "If we can get there then we can call for help. The ship or the Captain might hear us; someone will help us."

Rachel turns around and looks at Granderson. She sometimes forgets that she's been living on a ship full of trained naval officers for the better part of six months, most of whom have probably seen war once, twice, three times over. The Lieutenant looks determined, like she already has a plan.

"Have you got an idea?"

"I think so," the younger woman replies, relief flooding her face as she realizes that the scientist is at least going to listen to what she has to say. "I saw a couple of options when I was trying to get out of here the first time. If you head left…"

Rachel decides, as Granderson quietly explains her plan, that she'll fight, because really, she can do nothing else.

* * *

**4\. Tom**

He gives up on the notion of contact with the Nathan James pretty quickly. He knows Mike would respond if he could; something must be wrong and Tom is immediately on alert. Ashley shivers in his arms so he picks her up and holds her tight. _His little girl is safe, his son, his father… but not Darien; he's lost Darien, he's lost his wife…_

His heart shatters again as he pulls his daughter close, and he looks over at the Lieutenant who hovers awkwardly at his father's side.

"We need to leave now Sir," Burk offers eventually, ending the silence and he motions towards the door they've just passed through. "They'll come looking."

"Agreed," Tom replies, shifting Ashley slightly as she snuggles deeper into his jacket. He can feel her hands against his shirt and she feels hot, despite the coolness of the night air; the cure is still working its way through her system he realizes.

"Where do we go?" His father's voice sounds hoarse and broken and the man himself looks like he's aged 30 years in the last six months. Tom thinks that they probably all do.

"We need to get out of the area first," he says determinedly, casting his eyes over the nearby streets and buildings, "maybe head towards the harbor." He pauses, thinking over his choices, trying to think of one that won't put his family at risk again. "I need to get to the Nathan James; I need to get my crew back together and we need to get the hell out of Baltimore."

There's a slight hesitation in his voice, because despite his years of experience he's not quite sure what to do. He wonders, briefly, if he should ask his father for advice; he hasn't asked for any since he was 23, but now seems like the right time.

He doesn't get the opportunity to ask though, because his dad doesn't argue or comment, just nods in agreement and pulls Sammy towards him – it's a good enough response for Tom. They make their way quickly from the stadium, heading in the direction of the harbor. Burk keeps trying the radio as they walk, his other hand clutching his pistol, the younger man's eyes scanning their route carefully for potential threats. Tom's immediately thankful he has the other man with him; he's not sure he can do this on his own. He hands his dad his rifle, knowing that despite being retired his fingers will never forget the instinct to fire, to protect. He trusts his father to have their back; he'd already done so much to try and save their family, this is nothing but an additional part of the cause.

There's a tense atmosphere around the group and Tom knows that they're unlikely to reach the harbor as they are; his family are still weak from the virus and he can tell his children are exhausted. He's reluctant to part with them though, because he's only just found them and he's never going to risk being separated from them again. They'll have to settle somewhere for the night, somewhere safe and away from any patrolling men that Granderson (because he's now _sure_ she's at the center of this) may send in their direction.

He holds Ashley in his arms and keeps Sammy close as they walk, his eyes constantly searching for a place to rest.

They eventually find an abandoned store, looted, trashed, but the windows and doors are intact. The bright red X that's painted on the door causes Tom to take a hesitant step back before he realizes that Dr. Scott's vaccine makes him safe from the virus that might lie within. He ushers everyone inside, gets his family comfortable and retrieves his gun from his father's still clammy hands.

He takes first watch, allowing Burk to get some rest, and he watches, vigilant for any sign of danger emerging from the shadows of the streets outside.

Tom knows, deep down, that he'll have to fight, and soon. He'll have to fight to protect everyone he holds dear, to get back his crew, his ship. He'll fight to the death though, because he's not losing any more of his family.

**End**


End file.
